


She Had My Wife's Eyes

by Hors_Doeuvres



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: AU, Dark Kara Danvers, Evil Kara Danvers, F/F, Harsh Language, Murderer, One-Shot, Sexual and Violent content, Smut, SuperCorp, prompt story, sex kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hors_Doeuvres/pseuds/Hors_Doeuvres
Summary: "You are a world class musician by day and a serial killer by night. You are asked to perform at a funeral for a young woman, only to find out that she was one of your victims.”First dark SuperCorp AU written for this prompt. Trigger warning for murder, stalking, dark/sexual fantasies, sex kinks, graphic descriptions, violence, strangulation, and altogether just a whole lot of dark themes.#1 Dark SuperCorp AU.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 35
Kudos: 194





	She Had My Wife's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So I was scrolling through InstaG when I saw this story prompt: “You are a world class musician by day and a serial killer by night. You are asked to perform at a funeral for a young woman, only to find out that she was one of your victims.”
> 
> And I was immediately inspired. First dark SuperCorp AU. 
> 
> Trigger warning for murder, stalking, dark/sexual fantasies, sex kinks, graphic descriptions, violence, strangulation, and altogether just a whole lot of dark themes.
> 
> This is written from Kara Danver’s POV.

**_She Had My Wife’s Eyes:_ **

—

**_Early Saturday Morning: 0900._ **

I felt cold today, and I didn’t like that. 

The temperature was in the 40s, and the sky was dark and dreary. It was definitely weather for a funeral— dark and dreary and cold, making my hands tremble slightly in my gloves. 

I exhaled softly, my breath showing in the chilled air. 

_ Whitten and Wood Funeral Home. _

I carefully pulled my scarf higher, covering my mouth and nose with the soft cloth. I was more than early and had enough time to get set up. 

I walked up to the door and rapped sharply on the heavy wood with my knuckles. After a long moment, Henry Whitten— one of the owners: a tall, bald man with a somber smile— let me in. 

“Glad you could come, Kara,” he said, stepping to the side. “The family’s actually good friends of mine, and they… they’re taking it pretty hard. Anna loves—  _ loved  _ music, so I thought this would be a good way to honor her memory.” He paused and closed the door behind me. 

“The family agreed, so yes. Thanks for coming,” he directed another somber smile at me, his dark brown eyes deep and heavy. I nodded my head, taking in his words, before reaching up to pull down my scarf. 

“No problem at all, Henry,” I said, sending him a small smile of my own. “I am glad to help in any way I can. I only hope I can play for her in the way she would like.” 

“Of course you will, Kara,” Mr. Whitten stated, sure and steady. “You’re a genius with that violin. And I am just very glad you were free today and generously decided to come.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I earnestly replied. “Like I said, I’ll do what I can to help others.” 

“Nowhere, huh?” Mr. Whitten then asked, his tone turning slightly amused. “Not even next to your dear wife? How is she doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

At his words, a large smile instantly curled my lips. “Lena has been great. Just currently more busy at work with her newest project. You know how she is.”

Mr. Whitten nodded again, “yes. She always loves a challenge… I hope she hasn’t been overworking herself though.” 

I sighed, a rueful expression taking over my face. “We’ve been working on that— together. I can’t really fault her too much, you know how I can be when I’m learning a new symphony or practicing for a new play. We’re passionate, and we can become very focused. But we’ve also been doing better with taking breaks and spending time outside of our workspace.” 

“Good, good,” Henry Whitten said, his smile now more happy, more sincere, reaching his eyes and crinkling them at the sides. I mirrored his smile, as sincerely as I could. 

A moment passed before Henry Whitten spoke again, “ah, yes. The viewing will be in about thirty minutes. I know you’ve done this before, so I’ll leave you to it, okay?” 

I nodded my head. “Okay, I’ll get myself settled.” 

With another nod of acknowledgment, he turned and walked down a hallway to the right of the entryway. I watched him walk away before heading into the main hall, where at the very front was the open casket. 

I slowly walked over to the open casket, my violin case heavy against my side. I didn’t know the woman who had died. Didn’t know who the family was. I only came as a favor to Henry Whitten and a pretty decent paycheck, apparently the family  _ is  _ very supportive of the dead’s love of music.

The large hall was quiet, save for my footsteps on the wooden floor. I was heading to the front, to a small raised dais to the right of the casket. Curiously and intentionally, I drag my gaze along the shape of the wooden coffin— and when I was close enough, I paused in my walk and looked into it.

Straight into a face that was very, very, very familiar to me.

A cold, electrifying shiver slid down my spine at the sight. 

_ It was her.  _

_ The woman who had my wife’s eyes.  _

_ — _

I rested the base of my violin on my left collarbone, supporting it with my left hand and shoulder. My lightly calloused fingers pressed firmly on the strings as I ran my bow against them, testing the sound. 

A sweet note came out slowly, teased into existence by my smooth movements. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

Her name had been Anna. 

A short, petite young woman with darkly-tanned skin and vivid emerald eyes as green and as lovely as my wife’s, Lena’s. Sweet Lena, darling Lena— the love of my life, the one I could never, ever hurt. 

I sped up the swing of my bow, creating rich and powerful sounds that echoed almost hauntingly in the still mostly empty room. I had met Anna more than three months ago, had met her eyes then, had lost myself in them in the briefest of moments as we passed each other in a crowded Café, with Lena’s gentle and loving hand curled around my arm.

Anna was easy to figure out. She had a uniform on, a bright red shirt for the local Target store. Her name on the little name tag was displayed:  _ Anna.  _ Sweet-looking Anna, young-looking Anna. She had a bright, yellow purse and khaki pants. 

And as she exited the Café, Lena gently squeezed my arm and softly told me, “I love you, darling.” Her breath was warm on my ear and her lips were soft on my skin as I looked back and felt a tightening in my chest. 

_ Hello Anna. _

—

People slowly started filing into the room, coming up to the crying and mourning family at the front: mother, sister, and brother. No father. And the mother’s eyes were blue, like mine, not like Anna’s, not like  _ Lena’s.  _

Neither were the brother’s or sister’s, both of them taking after their mother. All of their eyes bloodshot and watery, their cheeks flushed and their bodies restless as they shook hands after hands, thanking people for coming and sharing in their grief, their loss.

_ Anna. _

Sweet, sweet Anna. 

So innocent. So naive. She never once looked back over her shoulder— not even while walking through dark streets in the late evening, her small mutt bouncing along next to her. No protection.

Vulnerable. 

She looked so—

So  _ fucking _ soft from a distance.

I had imagined sinking my fingers into the gentle slope of her neck— imagined the deep, purple bruises I would leave on her supple skin— the vibration of her throat against my palms as she struggles to escape my grip, screaming against the rag I would stuff down her mouth. 

—

The pensive melody of Bloch’s  _ Nigun  _ delicately bloomed from my fingertips, each note shaped with a careful touch, as if petal by petal, as I remembered the fluttering of Anna’s eyelids.

Her eyes had been wide in fear. Striking, turbulent, and terrified. 

Her hands had gone up to mine, my fingers, unstoppable— strengthened from years of managing the violin— muscles dexterous and defined. She had not heard me break the window (as I had placed duct tape all over it before breaking it, keeping the shattered glass from crashing loudly on the floor, and had hit the window with a hammer wrapped in a thick towel). 

I had snuck in with ease, quiet and controlled. My heart ticked and tocked evenly in my chest as I made my way up down the hallway. First bedroom to the right, the room she slept in. 

It had been so easy.

The modest, one story house had no security: no alarms, no video cameras, no floodlights, and the mutt was not trained. Just a friendly little puppy that was easily bribed by strips of bacon (done gradually with each night of surveillance). She didn’t even bark once that night, having just immediately started on munching on the greasy pieces of meat. 

And Anna. 

Oh  _ Anna… _

The notes were a sorrowful cry to god. An expression of deep melancholy and woeful passion. Though I never expected any divine to forgive me— 

— and neither did I want them to. 

There was no forgiveness to be found for me. 

Especially not from  _ Anna. _

Her bedroom door had been half-open, her slender form haphazardly laying on the queen-sized bed. The sheets were tangled in her legs; her head tilted back, her jaw loose, and her full lips parted. 

I carefully made my way to the bed, my feet sliding across the floor to minimize noise; the carpet, cheap and thick, helped with my mission as well. And after a few measured steps, I was next to her.

So,  _ so  _ fucking close to her.

With just the dull light from the moon outside, I could make out some of the features of her dark face. The sharp arch of her brows. The softness of her cheeks. The small, slightly upturned nose. 

She was pretty. Not beautiful. 

Not like Lena, not like my exquisite wife— whose flawless skin shone like smooth ivory and had lips that tasted of honey and sweet cherries and promised unconditional love.

No, no. Anna had none of that. 

But she did have one thing.

The one thing that mattered—

Smoothly, with no thought, I transitioned from the lingering end-note of  _ Nigun  _ to the exquisitely ardent and moving  _ Allemande  _ which opens Bach’s  _ Partita No. 2 in D Minor.  _

A second, two. I suppressed the instinctive desire to clench my fists tight, in excitement, in need, at  _ the _ memory.

— she had those eyes. 

She had my wife’s eyes.

—

And they had flown wide open when I roughly shoved the rag I had in my pocket in her half-open mouth. Her jaws were forcibly pushed open, and she struggled to speak as I then quickly wrapped my hands around her throat and squeezed, squeezed, and  _ squeezed.  _

She was lost in the plane between sleep and wakefulness. Her bold viridian eyes were fully open yet glassy, as if unbelieving of what she was seeing. Her hands reached up and scrabbled fruitlessly against mine while her legs tried to kick me, though she was too scared, too uncoordinated to do so, her limbs swinging ineffectively. 

I had the upper hand, the leverage. With gravity and the element of surprise on my side. And god, oh fucking god, her eyes.

_ Her fucking eyes.  _

They were wildly darting left to right, up and down. The blood vessels in the corners of her red eyeball had burst, flooding the white with dark, red blood. A swirling green eye and a bleeding scarlet one. 

My hands were steady, unrelenting— cutting off the oxygen and compressing her trachea. And her struggling was weakening, reduced to jerky twitches and shakes until finally, finally she stilled. 

Her eyes still wide open.

—

I had finally loosened my vise-like hold on her neck and slowly ran my palms up to her jaw, her cheeks, my fingertips brushing against her hair as my thumbs brushed lightly, delicately against her lips and then— the soft curve of her cheeks.

Slowly, slowly, I pressed the pads of my thumbs against the dip of skin right under her eyes. 

Those eyes, still wide open and staring up at me. I resisted the desire to feel her skin against my skin, to take off my gloves and feel the heat of her against my palms. I wanted to feel it— feel her so bad. So very bad. 

But I am not stupid and if caught, I knew what I would lose.

My Lena. My Lena. Sweet, loving Lena. Who had made me lunch before I left the house that day. Who kissed me so softly with lips laced with devotion and unconcealed desire. Who asked me not to stay in the music hall too late, had asked me to be careful as she finished packing for a long weekend business trip to Metropolis. 

I could never lose my Lena. Oh no. Never.

So this—  _ this  _ will have to do. 

I started to slowly press down on the skin, feeling the curve of her eyeballs underneath the thin layer—

**_Wee-o, Wee-o, Wee-ooooo!_ **

The piercing sound of ambulance sirens cut sharply through the air and broke my concentration. 

_ Had I been caught?  _

I felt my hands freeze on Anna’s face.

—

Two hours had passed since the viewing had started, I had taken breaks a few times throughout, drinking sips of water, using the bathroom, and carefully yet surreptitiously observing those in the hall. 

I was done with the work, having been hired to play only for the first two hours. The mother had come to me as I put my violin away. Her eyes were puffy and her hand was cold and clammy when she shook mine and thanked me for coming. I held her gaze and gently squeezed her hand as I offered her my condolences. I had expected a twisting in my stomach, a tightness in my chest, or at least a feeling of unease, but instead I felt nothing.

Nothing. 

Well, except for… a hint, a tinge of—

The mother’s face was worn and exhausted. Her eyes were sunken in deep, and her lips were pressed together firmly into a tight line, doing her best to keep them from trembling in grief. 

—  _ sadistic pleasure.  _

She didn’t know. Had no clue. That she was shaking the hand of her daughter’s killer. 

Her daughter, who had gotten lucky because I was stopped from doing more. The ambulance was blaring, and it was shortly joined by fire trucks and police cars. I was frozen, at first, but I quickly realized that they were not coming to the house I was in. They were, however, heading for the one a couple of houses down. 

I had seen the vehicles arrive and keep coming. It was not a risk I was willing to take, so I had slipped out in the middle of all the commotion. It was easy. I had gotten familiar with the surrounding neighborhood in the weeks I had been watching Anna, and it had been very useful.

The mother turned away from me and walked back to where her children were. I watched as she walked back to the open casket, and in doing so, I remembered how Anna looked in it. 

So silent, so peaceful.

Her eyes were closed, and she had a dress on that covered her neck— the thought of bruises still marking her skin made me exhale deeply, wistfully. The thought of marking someone that permanently, in death, almost made my eyes flutter back, but I caught myself in time and started to make my way out of the main hall.

I wanted to go home. 

I wanted to go home to Lena. 

My beautiful, darling Lena. 

I held my violin case close to my side as I walked down the streets to my car. 

I wanted to look my wife in her beautiful green eyes and then gently, passionately, and fervidly  _ fuck _ the stars out of them. 

— 

When I got home, it was at around 12:32 pm. I came in and carefully placed my case on its stand before taking off my coat, scarf, and gloves. 

“Baby,” I called out as I took my boots off and placed them in the closet. “Where are you, love?”

“In the study, darling,” the beautiful voice of my wife called out, making me smile and immediately start heading towards the sound. 

I walked into the study, my eyes immediately drawn to  _ her.  _

Her hair was loose and fell like a dark, wavy curtain over her right shoulder. Her jawline was sharp, and she quickly looked up the moment I walked into the room. And like a switch being flicked, like the sun rising, her eyes instantly lit up when she saw me. 

“Hey love,” she greeted warmly, her lips, soft and pink as rose petals, and I just— I just wanted to—

I walked over to her and gently took her face in my right hand before tilting it upwards and capturing her lips in a heated kiss, almost searing, her mouth easily yielding to mine. A moan escaped her lips, and I hungrily swallowed it. 

Her lips were so soft, her skin was so smooth. Every inch of her was flawless and her carotid pulse was pounding, racing against my fingertips. I could just… 

_ Devour  _ her.

And I tried. God, did I try, barely holding back as I molded my lips against hers. Nipped and pulled her lower lip in my mouth and sucked on it. My eagerness was readily returned, her tongue slipping out from between her lips and sliding into mine as she reached up and wrapped arms around my neck and buried her fingers into my hairs, nails firmly grazing my scalp. 

_ Fuck.  _

Air completely kissed out of our lungs, I carefully leaned down. Lena’s chair had turned towards me during our kissing, and I took advantage of the situation by sliding both my hands down her back to the base of the seat. 

“Up baby,” I softly murmured into her ear, making her lift her butt up slightly. Smiling at her eagerness, I curved my palms over her ass and under her thighs. She had on one of my boxer shorts, black with little neon dinosaurs on it, and a shirt of mine as well, a dark, navy blue one with the words, **‘Endangered Species’** on it. 

“Mmhmm,” Lena hummed softly as I easily lifted her out of the seat. She wrapped her smooth legs tightly around my waist and held me close. “My, my, Mrs. Luthor,” she breathlessly exhaled, “did you miss me? Or did you  _ miss  _ me?” 

I almost reached up to nervously fix my glasses, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not while I was holding my most precious, most treasured. My Lena.

_ “My Lena,”  _ I murmured reverently, adoringly. I kissed her softly, gently, then started peppering her beautiful face with feather-light kisses. “I  _ always  _ miss you.”

She giggled softly under my attention, her nose scrunching adorably. She was so… so fucking gorgeous. So stunning. I wanted to fuck her so badly, to bite into her flawless skin and leave red and purple all over her chest, stomach, and thighs. I wanted to have her fall apart against my mouth, have her clench around my whole fist, have her scream my name, in pleasure  _ and  _ in pain. 

But I shouldn’t. No, I  _ couldn’t.  _ I could never hurt my Lena, my sweet, sweet Lena. She was too pure, too clean— even touching her felt like running paint-covered hands over a blank, white canvas. 

“I love you, my Lena,” I said with sincerity wrought from the very marrow of my bones, the very cells in my blood, the very essence of me. Everything I felt— could feel— I poured into those five words, almost pleading in my tone, yearning for her to understand the depths of my words. 

“And I love you, my Kara,” she readily responded, her eyes softening, darkening, a thunderstorm brewing in  _ those  _ eyes. And fuck, I couldn’t hurt her, no. But I also could no longer wait. 

I kissed her again, this time, gentler and softer. Her mouth opened up to mine, asking me to explore hers, and I willingly complied, sliding my tongue into her mouth and tasting her sweetness. And I savored her. Relished in her. She was so delicious. I stepped to the side of her heavy desk and gently placed my treasure on it. 

My hands slid up her back and took her shirt with them. She reluctantly leaned back from the kiss and let me pull the shirt off. She had no bra on, her beautiful breasts now on full display, her pink nipples immediately calling me to them. I threw the shirt to the side and leaned down lower, unable to ignore the call of her chest. 

I kissed down her neck, nipped the sharp angles of her collarbone, and then swirled my tongue around her perfect nipple. She gasped at the contact and arched her back, pushing her breast even more so against my mouth. I smiled against her skin and then continued my ministrations, teasing and tugging on her nipple with my mouth as I wrapped my hand around her free breast and kneaded it firmly; making my sweet Lena moan and gasp softly. 

She was so responsive to me. So, so good. So  _ fucking  _ good. I pinched, tweaked, and rubbed her nipple between my fingers as I lavished her breast with more kisses and then switched sides, giving both breasts equal treatment. 

Then, I started kissing down to her navel. And as I did so, I curved my body over hers and pushed the papers she had been studying to the floor, clearing the desk behind her. I laid her back on the flat surface and, with my hands under her knees, moved her feet on the edge of it. She instinctively shimmied up on the desk, making herself more comfortable. 

I traced the outline of her bellybutton with my tongue and grazed my teeth against the graceful crest of her right hip. “Up, baby girl,” I kissed into her skin, my hands sliding up to the waistband of her shorts. 

She whimpered softly and quickly did as I asked, “yes… yes Daddy,” she delicately mewled, using  _ that  _ title that immediately sent an electrifying shiver down my spine. My fists clenched tightly on her shorts at that word, and I quickly paused my lavishing of her skin with my mouth to take that last piece of clothing off. 

And there it was, her beautiful little pussy. The pink outer lips were slick with arousal and her clit was peeking out slightly. 

I wanted to take that nub in my mouth and viciously lap at it with my tongue as I shoved four fingers deep into her pussy— but I stubbornly stamped down that desire and carefully took off my glasses and tied my hair up into a tight bun. 

Lena, biting her swollen lower lip, gazed at me through half-lidded eyes clouded with lust as she placed her hands on her knees and opened her legs wide, displaying herself to me like my own personal little slut— my goddess, my queen, my slut, my whore…

“Fuck, baby girl, you are so fucking gorgeous,” I earnestly observed, leaning down to kiss and lick along the lines of her inner thighs and around her clit, so, so close to it, but not yet on it. “So fucking sexy.” 

She moaned in response, I could already imagine her knuckles turning white from gripping her knees hard, keeping herself from grabbing my head and pulling it to where she wanted me most. 

“God, please, please,” she pleaded heatedly, her leg muscles twitching and jerking under my mouth.

“Please what, baby girl?” I prompted, licking the sensitive skin between her pussy and asshole. “What do you want? Tell Daddy.”

Her hips started moving, trying to follow my mouth: yearning to grind on it. She was in such need, her pussy lips unfurling even more with the increased wetness. 

_ Fuck.  _

“Please… please eat me Daddy,” she then begged, her voice rough with arousal. “Please eat me. And lick me. And fuck me. With your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers. Just make me cum, Daddy.  _ Please.”  _

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… _

I could no longer deny my sweet baby. 

And so I ran the flat top of my tongue right on her clit— and I did it again, and again, and again— as I slipped a finger into her welcoming wetness. She gasped and moaned deeply in response as I pulled that one finger out and quickly slid back in with the two that she was more than ready for. 

I slid my fingers against her smooth walls and then curled them tight, pressing down on the soft, spongy spot on her front wall that made her curl her toes and roll her hips in desire. 

“Yes, uh, fuck  _ yes,  _ Daddy,” she sobbed as she moved her hands to under her knees and pulled them back. Knowing what she wanted, I settled lower between her legs and let her place them on my shoulders, opening her up to me even more. 

“Yes, baby girl, yes,” I breathed hotly into her dripping wet pussy as I firmly stretched her out and buried a third finger into her needy cunt. She was so fucking wet and so fucking hot. And she was taking me in, pulling me into her depths, squeezing. “Cum for me baby girl, cum for Daddy. Flood Daddy’s mouth with your cum!” 

And she clamped down hard at my words, her muscles clenching tight around my fingers as delicious fluid, the fucking  _ nectar of the gods  _ gushed out. She screamed my name as she orgasmed, breathless and exquisite in her peak. 

_ “Kara! Yes, oh fucking fuck yes. Yes Daddy! Fuck.”  _

Her words echoed in my ears as I latched my mouth around her sensitive clit and sucked on it hard, grazing it with my teeth at times. Her muscles tensed under my touch again, and it didn’t take long for me to tease a second orgasm out of her.

_ “Goddamn, fuck, Daddy, yessss…”  _

I licked up as much of her juices as I could and deftly increased the pace of my hand, pulling out and solidly slamming back into her and her sensitive g-spot repeatedly. 

Then, I reached up and carefully slid her leg off my shoulder and slid up her body. Her arms immediately flung themselves around me, pulling me close. It was cold in the study as well, but her beautiful, alabaster body was already covered with a fine sheen of sweat. 

She kept her legs as wide open as she could, still allowing me generous access as I pressed my thumb firmly against her clit, rubbing it in smooth circles. 

_ “Again, baby girl,” _ I hissed in command into the curve of her ear as I tucked my head next to hers.  _ “Cum for Daddy. Cum for Daddy hard. Squeeze and soak my fucking fingers with your tight, little pussy and sweet juices. Cum for me, my Lena.” _

And Lena rolled her hips to meet the thrusts of my hand and pulled me into a passionate kiss. She moaned into my mouth and then her whole body tensed tightly against mine, and I felt her come apart around and against my hand, her moans of pleasure lost in the depths of my mouth as I returned her insatiable kiss. 

And I stilled my hand and let her ride out her high, the intense hunger of her mouth slowly tapering down as she transitioned from hot, open-mouthed kisses to sweet, sated brushes of her soft lips against mine. 

“I love you, my Kara,” she then fondly stated, pushing me up a bit by my shoulders so that she could look at me directly. I did as she wanted and tenderly held her gaze. 

And those eyes… those eyes. 

I carefully placed a small kiss on her forehead and then softly responded, “and I love you, my Lena.” 

And then she was smiling: stunningly and strikingly so. And I couldn’t help but mirror the smile back. And then I slowly pulled my finger out from within her and raised it up to mouth, quickly popping it in and savoring the taste of Lena’s orgasms on my tongue. 

She watched, enraptured and with a bright red flush to her cheeks, as I closed my eyes in pleasure, relishing her taste. 

And when I finally opened my eyes again, she was staring right at me. 

With  _ those  _ eyes

And I remembered  _ Anna. _

And I remembered Morgan.

Lucy.

Saskia…

Their faces flashed briefly in my head as I leaned down and gently kissed my beautiful wife, making her close  _ her  _ eyes and return it just as sweetly. 

Anna had not been my only one, no, but she was my only hastily ended one, the one I was not able to complete my whole ritual, my whole mission with. 

And it was not Anna’s eyes that reminded me of that, no. 

I carefully pulled back and Lena’s eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing those vivid, radiant green eyes.

And it was  _ those  _ eyes that haunted me so.

“You are always so gentle with me, darling,” Lena lovingly murmured, her lips curling up into a small, crooked smile. I kissed the corner of her mouth and started to wrap my arms around her waist. With quick understanding, she helped me and wrapped her perfect legs tightly around my own waist.

I slowly stood up straight and moved my hands under her thighs to help support her. Her groin pressed firmly against my stomach, and I felt her shiver at the contact.

“Of course,” I then said, slowly making my way to our bedroom. “I could never hurt you, my Lena.” 

And her legs tightened even more around my waist, and she curled her body into mine, tucking her head against my chest. 

“Do you want a bath, sweet baby girl?” I asked, already going through my aftercare mental checklist. It had not been a very intense session, but I wondered— worried— that the cold fire under my skin could burn my sweet love as I tried my hardest to keep it from her. 

“Will you join me?” She asked, her soft voice muffled against my sweater as I climbed up the stairs. I couldn’t help but grin at her question. “Of course, baby,” I answered with no hesitation. “We will take a nice bubble bath. Have that red wine you love so much. Snack on those biscuits we made, and do whatever else you want. Anything you want, baby girl.”

Lena squealed in joy and gently kissed my neck as she did a happy little jig in my arms. “I guess I can take a day off for this,” she pretended to thoughtfully consider. “As long as you treat your little princess well.” 

And with my hands wrapped around her slender body— now so dependent on me, wrapped so tightly around me— I couldn’t help but give her a firm squeeze.

“Of course, my Lena.”

—

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This story is just a one-shot, and I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! And if you have any dark and smutty story prompts, please share them, and I might be able to squeeze more one-shots out!
> 
> I’m hoping to write more of them to give me practice in writing— thank you so much! 
> 
> P.S. I haven’t written a sex scene in a loooooong time, so please let me know what you think of that too! No kink-shaming, I can't help that Kara's a Daddy and Lena's a sweet baby girl.


End file.
